Twas the Night before the Election
Spending the morning with a homeless man changed everything about how I feel with regard to Election Day.
He spent the night behind the Presbytery office. Our back lot is secluded and sheltered from the 24 hour chaos of Folsom Boulevard. It is quiet and relatively safe. He was rolling up his kit when I got to work. I asked him if he wanted a cup of coffee or needed to use the bathroom. He needed both. He brought his kit inside and went into the bathroom. Our bathroom is a holdout from whatever our office complex was before it was an ecclesiastical center. It's big with a shower, lockers, and a couple of sinks. He asked if he could wash up, and I said he could. Afterwards, as he repacked his stuff and left our restroom as clean as it was when he found it, he shared a bit of his story. He had been in the hospital getting a nasty spider bite tended to, missed his Social Security check, and was on the street. It was amazing how humanizing a cup of coffee, using a restroom indoors, getting washed, and wearing a change of clothes could be. He generously thanked us for the use of our facilities, confessing that God must have sent him to a church office. He left, sharing what gift of gratitude he had--a huge bag of candy.
It struck me that this should be what our election is about--humanizing our communities, helping us to see the people all around us all the time as real human beings.
I fear that instead, we have only used the past year to excuse a vilifying dehumanization of anyone different from ourselves. We've torn the very thin scar tissue from national wounds of race, ethnicity, gender, age, ability, and religion. At times, we can fool ourselves into thinking ourselves enlightened, evolved beyond our past, and equipped to transform our world. Then, we realize how little progress we've actually made. The same old fears, prejudices, and judgments divide, segregate, and alienate. We are told that if we do not vote in a particular way, surely God will forsake us. We seem driven to reoccupy some mythical place in our past where everything was stable, pure, and even godly. If we look closely, though, that mythical moment never existed. We struggle with unity. We fall all over equality. Invariably, someone is left out, disenfranchised, and left angry, afraid, and antagonistic toward THEM, whoever THEM happens to be.
But it need not be this way.
Tomorrow, as I make my way to vote, I am going to try to vote as a follower of Jesus. What that means is that as I peruse my ballot, I am going to meditate deeply on what I know of Jesus. Jesus radically welcomed anyone and everyone, lifting the outcast to sainthood, erasing the stigma of being a leper, literal or social, bringing tax collectors and Zealots together in his inner circle, spending time with Pharisees and those whom the Pharisees degraded simply as "sinners," and generally meeting any and every human being as a child of God, worthy of feeding, grace, and mercy. Jesus then emptied himself for all of them, even as they rejected him. He was willing to be humiliated to bring about the redemption of all. So, as I vote, I am going to ask myself--
Who will lift the Least of These into grace?
Who will fill the chasms that divide us?
Who will leave the empty full?
Who is willing to empty themselves so all can have enough?
Who will make a place at the table for friend and enemy alike?
As I look at proposed changes in our constitution and laws, I am going to ask--
Will this change alleviate suffering?
Will this measure feed the hungry, literal and figurative?
Will this measure heal someone or something?
Will this act bring peace or lay a basis for peace?
I do not list all of this so everyone will think how pious I am. Rather, I mention this method because we can all practice it--any one of us eligible to vote. This practice is not beyond us.
Jesus looked at us and saw us. What he saw was imperfect with no one pure enough to act as judge--the one without sin can throw the first rock...
That did not lead him away from demanding that we embody love. He gave two commandments. Love God with everything we are, inside and out; and love our neighbor (i.e., every human being with whom we share the planet) as we love our own lives. He did not offer new ways to exclude people. He did not offer exciting new means by which to judge one another. He did not offer excuses by which we are free to condemn someone else. He offered love. He offered love by which we are to live. He offered love as the only means in which to meet one another.
I met a man rising from sleep outside my office. I met a fellow creation of God. I met a child beloved by his Maker.
That's how I'm going to vote.
He spent the night behind the Presbytery office. Our back lot is secluded and sheltered from the 24 hour chaos of Folsom Boulevard. It is quiet and relatively safe. He was rolling up his kit when I got to work. I asked him if he wanted a cup of coffee or needed to use the bathroom. He needed both. He brought his kit inside and went into the bathroom. Our bathroom is a holdout from whatever our office complex was before it was an ecclesiastical center. It's big with a shower, lockers, and a couple of sinks. He asked if he could wash up, and I said he could. Afterwards, as he repacked his stuff and left our restroom as clean as it was when he found it, he shared a bit of his story. He had been in the hospital getting a nasty spider bite tended to, missed his Social Security check, and was on the street. It was amazing how humanizing a cup of coffee, using a restroom indoors, getting washed, and wearing a change of clothes could be. He generously thanked us for the use of our facilities, confessing that God must have sent him to a church office. He left, sharing what gift of gratitude he had--a huge bag of candy.
It struck me that this should be what our election is about--humanizing our communities, helping us to see the people all around us all the time as real human beings.
I fear that instead, we have only used the past year to excuse a vilifying dehumanization of anyone different from ourselves. We've torn the very thin scar tissue from national wounds of race, ethnicity, gender, age, ability, and religion. At times, we can fool ourselves into thinking ourselves enlightened, evolved beyond our past, and equipped to transform our world. Then, we realize how little progress we've actually made. The same old fears, prejudices, and judgments divide, segregate, and alienate. We are told that if we do not vote in a particular way, surely God will forsake us. We seem driven to reoccupy some mythical place in our past where everything was stable, pure, and even godly. If we look closely, though, that mythical moment never existed. We struggle with unity. We fall all over equality. Invariably, someone is left out, disenfranchised, and left angry, afraid, and antagonistic toward THEM, whoever THEM happens to be.
But it need not be this way.
Tomorrow, as I make my way to vote, I am going to try to vote as a follower of Jesus. What that means is that as I peruse my ballot, I am going to meditate deeply on what I know of Jesus. Jesus radically welcomed anyone and everyone, lifting the outcast to sainthood, erasing the stigma of being a leper, literal or social, bringing tax collectors and Zealots together in his inner circle, spending time with Pharisees and those whom the Pharisees degraded simply as "sinners," and generally meeting any and every human being as a child of God, worthy of feeding, grace, and mercy. Jesus then emptied himself for all of them, even as they rejected him. He was willing to be humiliated to bring about the redemption of all. So, as I vote, I am going to ask myself--
Who will lift the Least of These into grace?
Who will fill the chasms that divide us?
Who will leave the empty full?
Who is willing to empty themselves so all can have enough?
Who will make a place at the table for friend and enemy alike?
As I look at proposed changes in our constitution and laws, I am going to ask--
Will this change alleviate suffering?
Will this measure feed the hungry, literal and figurative?
Will this measure heal someone or something?
Will this act bring peace or lay a basis for peace?
I do not list all of this so everyone will think how pious I am. Rather, I mention this method because we can all practice it--any one of us eligible to vote. This practice is not beyond us.
Jesus looked at us and saw us. What he saw was imperfect with no one pure enough to act as judge--the one without sin can throw the first rock...
That did not lead him away from demanding that we embody love. He gave two commandments. Love God with everything we are, inside and out; and love our neighbor (i.e., every human being with whom we share the planet) as we love our own lives. He did not offer new ways to exclude people. He did not offer exciting new means by which to judge one another. He did not offer excuses by which we are free to condemn someone else. He offered love. He offered love by which we are to live. He offered love as the only means in which to meet one another.
I met a man rising from sleep outside my office. I met a fellow creation of God. I met a child beloved by his Maker.
That's how I'm going to vote.
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